


A Light Long Forgotten

by DarkPilot



Series: A Light Long Forgotten [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Execution, Explicit rating for violence, Graphic Execution Scene, Hux Has No Chill, Interrogation scene, Kylo Ren Redemption, M/M, Past Friendship, Physical Torture, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Psychological Torture, Sort Of, canon-divergent, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPilot/pseuds/DarkPilot
Summary: The shadows they had cast on each other had fallen away, for where there was a shadow, there had to be a light. And that light was something truly beautiful.





	A Light Long Forgotten

Poe had lost track of the hours in his cell, lost count of the troopers that had come to beat the truth out of him and had only left in frustration and resignation. His eyelids drooped from exhaustion and pain, and he forced himself to try and rest. If he wanted even the smallest chance of getting off the _Finalizer_ , he'd need to save his nearly nonexistent strength.

Between his physical pain and hyperactive mind, though, Poe was finding it difficult to rest. He was dimly aware of the blood and sweat running down his face, and he somehow acknowledged the bruises and cuts painted over the rest of his body. His vision blurred between single and double images.

And then . . .

And now . . .

"I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board."

 _You know damn well you do._ Poe's mind was having trouble deciding whether to feel angry or betrayed. Instead, he only offered a weak glare to the black-robed figure in front of him.

"Comfortable?" Kylo Ren's head tilted ever so slightly.

Poe didn't care to answer, but his voice betrayed him. "Not really."

Ren let out a low chuckle. It might have been a scoff. He stepped closer to Poe's restraining board. "I'm impressed. No one has been able to get it out of you, what you did with the map."

 _The map that'll take you to your would-be killer?_ Instead, Poe mustered some bravado and said, "You might wanna rethink your technique."

Ren might have smiled under the mask as he raised his hand. Poe didn't need the Force to feel the energy in the room change. The scream was torn from his lungs by a mere twitch of Ren's fingers. Poe didn't get a chance to breathe before another cry was ripped from his body. He thrashed in his restraints, desperate for some sort of release, some sort of escape.

"Don't fight me, pilot," Ren whispered, almost soothingly. His hand reached closer, further, deeper. Poe slammed his head against the back of his support, hoping to relieve himself of the excruciating pain. He could hardly breathe for the screams that leapt from his throat like a pack of starved fathiers. His gut twisted in agony. If there had been anything left in his deprived stomach, he would have thrown it up.

"I don't need the map," Ren continued, his fingers millimeters from Poe's forehead. Poe could feel a fire raging underneath his skin, as though Ren were trying to pull the very blood from his veins. Ren's mask inched closer until the cold metal almost touched Poe's hot skin. "I need _you_."

Ren's hands pounced on Poe's temples, and his whole world exploded with pain. Except - this time, it wasn't Poe's. Someone else was screaming now.

Wearily, breathing heavily from his ordeal, Poe turned his head. By his side, strapped down to another restraint support, screaming and crying with blood running down his face was -

"Ben-" Poe gasped. Something rose inside him, a mix of confusion and fear and anger and hurt and -

" _Love_ ," snarled Kylo Ren's voice. Poe snapped back to his own cell, the vision gone, his head and heart pounding. Ren grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back, eliciting a small whimper of pain from Poe. "You _loved_ Ben Solo."

Poe forced himself to stare into the cold black mask. He tried to picture the eyes underneath. "He was my friend."

"You wanted something more," Ren accused.

Heat flooded Poe's cheeks, and it wasn't just from pain. "Having him in my life was enough. I didn't need anything else."

"Noble," Ren growled. "Noble and pathetic." He reached up and pressed the sides of his helmet. The bottom part slid upwards with a soft hissing sound, and Ren took the helmet off and shook out his hair. Poe's heart skipped a beat when he saw the unchanged face.

"So it is you . . ." Poe murmured. He shook his head. "I wanted to believe it was a lie. I wanted to believe you couldn't have become that person."

Ren slid a hand through Poe's hair. Poe tried to flinch away, but Ren's grip was firm. "It seems you wanted a lot of things, pilot. I might be inclined to give you one of them."

"Wha - " Poe didn't have time to protest before Ren's lips came crashing down on his own. At the same time, the now-familiar agony in his mind burned to life again. He pulled away, and the pain stopped.

"How was that, pilot?" Ren pulled off his gloves and caressed Poe's cheek with his bare thumb, eliciting a mix of a comforted sigh and a pain-weary groan. Suddenly, he stopped and backhanded the pilot's tear-streaked face. Poe felt the sting of the hit, but more than that, he felt a wave of euphoria coil in his stomach like a ysalamir.

"Ben - " Poe whispered, and this time, he reached up to lead the kiss, even as his instincts screamed at him not to. His mind exploded with agony again, but he couldn't refuse himself. His pained breaths escaped shallowly into Ren's mouth. One of Ren's hands twisted in his hair while the other snaked behind his waist and pressed him up against his restraints. The pain was almost unbearable, but all Poe could see was Ben's face. Ben, whom he'd loved in secret from far away, whom he'd let down all those years ago, whom he'd lost and searched for and lost again and given up on and finally found again.

Some part of Poe was fully aware that it wasn't Ben he was kissing now. It wasn't Ben that took control of Poe's mouth and neck and jaw like he owned them - no, these were the movements of Kylo Ren, who was just using him for some other dark purpose. But -

"You think you deserve this," Ren murmured, his hand creeping under Poe's shirt as far as the restraints would allow. His nails dug into the bruises and cuts he found there, sending sparks of agony with his touch and euphoria with his torture. Somehow, Poe couldn't bring himself to refuse Ren's advances. After all, Ren was right. He deserved this, after what he'd done and failed to do. Small whimpers escaped his lips, landing somewhere between the lines of pain and want.

Ren's fingers crept down Poe's cheek, turning his head aside. "Interesting . . . a droid . . ."

With a jolt, Poe's mind sprang back into focus. He pulled away as far as he could, horrified. "No - "

"Orange and white, BB unit?" An evil smile slipped across Ren's features. "Not very creative, I'd say."

"No." Poe shook his head despite the splitting pains that lanced through his temples. "Nononono - "

"Too late, pilot." Ren disentangled himself and stepped back, pulling his gloves back on. "We'll have that droid in no time."

"No!" Poe yelled, struggling fiercely against his bonds. He couldn't believe he'd let his guard down, and for what? A moment of false intimacy with a dream he'd been chasing since he'd first laid eyes on Ben Solo?

"Don't waste your energy," Ren whispered, cupping Poe's chin. "There's nothing you can do."

Poe could feel Ren's breath ghosting over his lips, could still taste the agony in his manipulative kiss. He focused instead on Ren's eyes, searching for the vulnerability and solitude that he knew Ben could never hide. He'd known that their paths had diverged a long time ago, and he'd tried to make peace with that. But this? "Please, Ben, don't do this."

"I do not define myself by that name any longer," Ren hissed.

"That's the name you left me with!" Poe cried. "You can call yourself whatever you like now, but Ben Solo's the one who left us, and Ben Solo's the one we miss."

Ren made no reply. Instead, he retrieved his helmet and clamped it over his face again. He raised one hand, and Poe's throat closed. The pilot's lips moved in the shape of words and his face contorted in a silent plea, but no sound came out. Ren strode briskly out of the room.

Ren was met by a stiff-postured, red-haired figure. "It's in a droid. A BB unit."

"If it's on Jakku, we'll have it in no time," the other said swiftly. "Anything else?"

"No." Ren gave a cursory glance in Poe's direction. "Prepare him for immediate execution."

"Is he not worth reconditioning? His skills could prove useful if, er, given some guidance."

"He is not the only pilot the galaxy has to offer. Besides, we've already seen the fruit of your reconditioning system, have we not?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Then I suggest you re-evaluate the men and women you sent with me and find out where their true loyalties lie. In the meantime, this one is to be executed. Use whatever means you like, but make it public. I want the whole of the Resistance and any of its supporters to see."

"As you wish, _Lord Ren_." The red-haired man didn't even salute Ren as he turned and entered Poe's cell, flanked by a small stormtrooper escort. He tilted his head curiously. There was no way he could have missed the flush in Poe's lips or his rather suggestively rumpled shirt. "Poe Dameron."

"That's me." Poe fought to keep his tone steady. His voice came out weaker than he'd wanted.

"Armitage Hux," the man said, his eyes narrowing. "A pleasure, finally meeting the so-called best pilot in the Resistance. A pity that you won't be joining our ranks."

"So you say." Poe would have said more, but his body was on the verge of physical collapse, and his throat burned with Ren's fire. His eyes felt heavy with tears from what he'd let Ren do to him, but he refused to cry in front of this Armitage Hux who looked like he was half-durasteel rod. He noticed Kylo Ren hovering by the entrance. Hux followed his gaze and lifted his chin slightly.

"He looks almost too clean for the cam," Hux commented. "Wouldn't you agree, Ren?"

Poe knew what was coming next, but quite frankly, he didn't care. The troopers could hurt him however they wanted. In a few minutes, it wouldn't matter.

At Hux's signal, Poe was unbound and thrown to the floor. His flight jacket was torn off, leaving him in his sweat-soaked beige shirt.

The troopers were merciless. Poe was tossed between them like a rag doll, one's fists carrying him to another's. He could feel his skin split open and his bones crack and pop under the weight of their blows, but he couldn't seem to react. After Ren's interrogation, nothing the troopers did seemed to hurt. One trooper slammed Poe's arm down on his knee. Poe heard the telltale snap, but he couldn't feel the broken bone.

Poe could no longer stand or kneel, so he slumped weakly on the ground, closing his eyes as blood streamed down his face. Kicks and stomps rained down on his body, but he did nothing to shield himself. _It'll all be over soon. They'll kill me, and it will all be over._

"Oh, what is this?" The blows stopped at the sound of Hux's voice. Through blurred eyes, Poe turned his head a fraction to see what was going on.

Hux was holding a small, worn, leather-bound journal, Poe's jacket under his feet. He flipped through it and began reading. "' _Dear Ben. I don't really know how to start this letter, either. I don't think I could have ever imagined that this sort of day would come. I didn't ever want to. I still don't_." He sneered at Poe. "Love letters, Dameron? Sentimental. Pathetic." Hux threw the journal aside and knelt by Poe's prone form. "Let's hope your Ben is watching when you finally die."

"My Ben's already dead." Poe's voice was barely a whisper. He coughed, spattering the floor with little drops of red. He gazed past Hux to the immobile figure of Kylo Ren. " _You_ murdered him."

Hux smiled. It was a sickening sight. He stood and kicked Poe's face, and Poe felt a new stream of blood gush from his nose. One foot pressed down on Poe's neck, not to choke, but to restrain. "I've had many people killed over the years, Dameron. I don't remember most of them, but I think I'll remember you. Once we transmit the feed of your execution across the galaxy, the Resistance's hope will die along with you, and I'll be there to see it."

A laugh fluttered from Poe's lips. "I'm not the hope of the Resistance, pal. I'm just the guy they sent to go get it."

Fury crossed Hux's face, and he kicked Poe's face again, his heel landing on his left eye. "Take him away!"

Two stormtroopers hoisted Poe between them and cuffed his wrists in front of him. Poe cried out softly when the one on his right grabbed his broken arm. A hood was roughly shoved over his head, and he was forced from his cell, half-marched, mostly-dragged down the halls.

If he hadn't been blinded, he might have seen Kylo Ren stoop down to pick up the journal before he left the cell.

* * *

 

_The broadcast is staticky and blurry at first, but it soon comes into focus. A man stands on a platform, the cuffs on his wrists hung on a hook on the wall behind him, stretching his arms above his head. The right one juts out at a strange angle; it must be broken. His torn shirt and skin are clearly marked by the First Order's abuse, his hair sweat-soaked. His face is bruised and bloody, both eyes blackened, his nose crooked as if it's been broken several times. His legs look like they can barely hold him up, and there's a stun collar around his neck. If he's in pain, he doesn't show it. His eyes only display defiance, but his sagging, tired posture suggests resignation. He knows what fate lies in store for him._

" _Beings of the galaxy," the voiceover says. The accent is posh, and the voice is bold - one of high-class militaristic standing. "Citizens of the New Republic. Today, we bring before you a man of the Resistance. You've all heard of them. You call them your saviors, your protectors, your heroes. It took some time, but even this man, the famed Poe Dameron, the Resistance's greatest pilot and invaluable Fleet Commander, broke before us and revealed everything he knew. Look, galaxy - one of your heroes. Let his death be a lesson to you all. There are no heroes, and those that would dare to resist us will suffer the same fate as he will."_

_Two stormtroopers enter the frame, each carrying an electroaxe. Their helmets have distinctive black stripes that mark them as executioners._

_The prisoner - Poe Dameron - begins speaking. It takes a moment for the microphone to pick up his voice, it's so soft: "I'm not going to start this letter with any sort of greeting. This isn't a conversation, and even if it was, I'm not sure that 'Hello' is the best way to start a letter. Besides, it was your name on the outside of this note. I prematurely hope that you, Poe Dameron, and no one else, reads this. Where do I begin?"_

_The posh voice shouts: "Ready!" The axes open._

_"I didn't address this letter to you because I wanted to blame you or anything. I just thought - and I hope - that you'd be the one to understand"_

_"Execute!"_

_Visible arcs of electricity dance between the ends of the axes. As one, the troopers press their weapons to Dameron's exposed sides, and he throws his head back in agony. The voltage is not meant to kill at first - it increases the longer the axe is in contact with the victim's body. Death is slow, and it is painful. Amazingly, Dameron still finds the strength to speak._

_"You were - always the son my - parents wanted. I think - you and I - both knew that - You're strong - smart and - funny - you can fly and - you're not a Force user - me on the other hand - not as much."_

_The executioners pull their weapons away, and Dameron looks like he would have collapsed if his wrists hadn't been hung above him. The strain on his arms is visible - the broken bone in his right arm is visible through his skin. His body jerks and twitches with the shocks still coursing through his system, and his lips flutter in the shape of words. It's clear that he's reciting something - is it an old letter? - like it's a prayer. The executioners wait for their axes to cool down and press them to his sides again. They start from the beginning voltage again. They do not want to kill Dameron quickly. They want him to suffer while the galaxy watches, and he does._

_Pain lends his voice volume, and the mics pick up his mantra once more: "You keep your old man - outta the driver's - seat, you hear - He's - a danger - to safe - speeder drivers everywhere - "_

_Pull away. Short, incoherent reprieve. Continue._

_" - like I said - before - don't want - make you feel - like I'm - blaming you. I'm - not. Please don't feel - like I am - It's just that - lately things - have been different - more different - than normal - not that we - know what normal - is - sorry - getting off-topic - "_

_Pull away. Short, incoherent response. Continue._

_" - never actually gotten drunk - before. Maybe - you haven't - either and - this is - a pointless - analogy - if this were a - real conversation - might sigh - but we're not - I'm not - truth is - scared - don't know why - I'm telling you this - we don't - even know - other that well - maybe if - parents hadn't - sent me away - we might have been friends - maybe - why I feel - can trust you - "_

_Pull away. Short, incoherent reprieve. Continue._

_" - tried - to kill - last night - asleep - darkness - come back - tried - fight it - woke up - lightsaber - inches - face - terrified - don't - remember - happened next - see was - hardness - Luke's eyes - his light - right there - front of my face - somehow - inside me - rose - protected - don't know - dark - not - "_

_Dameron's sentences are losing their strength. He can hardly manage one or two words at a time now. Even some of the troopers in the audience look away. Dameron's anguish does not stem from his body. It pours from his words. If he had simply screamed or begged for his life like the others, his death might have been more bearable. But this? Nothing in the galaxy could have prepared anyone for this heart-wrenching soliloquy._

_" - don't think - someday - soon - planets - cultures - weeks - seven - five - twelve - other - strange - number - someday - never - a day - the week - wonder - why - think - someday - galaxy - with maybe - perhaps - hope so - other - galaxy - ships - can't - travel - to - "_

_Smoke curls from Dameron's clothes, and his skin is bright red and covered in sweat from the electric burns. He can't last much longer. His body convulses and spasms uncontrollably, and his orison finally breaks down into breathless, silent cries of pain._

_Seconds later, the executioners are thrust aside by some invisible force, their axes - still at full charge - buried deep in each other's bodies. Dameron's cuffs and collar come undone, and he immediately collapses in a steaming, bloody heap. A huge clamor ensues. There are incoherent sounds of yelling and blasterfire, but above it all is the legendary, telltale whoosh of a lightsaber. Troopers and officers alike are thrown and killed, falling left and right. The cam is suddenly lifted, capturing the action amidst all its shaking. A new figure, clad all in black, whirls a double-quillioned crimson lightsaber amidst a storm of equally red blasterfire. His face is unreadable, but one might imagine his features set in an immovable mask of determination and vengeance. He's fighting his way through the crowd, single-handedly pushing them back. This man - if he can even be called that - is untouchable, invincible. A blast explodes too close to the cam, and the broadcast is cut short._

* * *

 

Poe's eyelids were heavy with the thought of death. Ben's letter hovered behind his lips, still waiting to be spoken, but he found he no longer had the strength to utter another syllable. He could hardly feel the rest of his body, and movement was impossible. He was dimly aware that he had fallen to the floor and that he was still breathing. Barely. Silence screamed in his ears, begging him to let go of the life he clung so dearly to.

 _I'm trying_. His lungs betrayed him.

Perhaps dying was like sleeping - the darkness would come slowly and subtly, then overtake him before he had a chance to register it. Poe wanted to close his eyes, but they were already shut. Perhaps he was asleep already. He was so close . . .

A sudden warmth blossomed inside his body. Feeling returned to his numb limbs, and with it, pain. A whimper escape Poe's lips. If being dead hurt so much, he's rather live. His nerves were so fried he couldn't tell which pains were real and which ones weren't. Images, light flashed across his closed eyelids. His hearing gradually returned, and every familiar sound was so loud. Someone was calling his name. Someone was shaking him. Someone was carrying him.

Poe's eyes fluttered open a sliver, and he caught a blurry glimpse of a face framed in black. His hand brushed something soft. He tried to grab it, but his fingers felt heavier than durasteel. He felt like he was sinking, but somehow not like he was drowning. Swimming. It was like swimming. He'd liked swimming once. His legs twitched with the idea of wading in the water. It might have just been from the residual electricity in his system.

_Almost there._

Poe couldn't tell if the thought was his own or not. It wasn't his voice. What did his own voice sound like, anyway? He'd somehow forgotten. He tried to speak to find out, but the only noise he produced was a hoarse croak. That didn't sound right. He tried again and broke off in chest-aching coughs.

_Don't try to speak. You'll hurt yourself._

Poe didn't argue. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the soft blackness that held him up. Something like water flowed around him, its embrace warm and inviting. It felt nice, like bathing in a still summer lake. Some of the pain in his extremities was gradually replaced by a feeling of numbness and comfort. He could feel himself almost relax.

Everything was still so loud. Poe felt like he should have been able to tell what was going on, but between heavy eyes and overwhelmed ears, his best guess was a battle. It was as if the whole galaxy had decided to explode at the same time. Fireworks. It was like listening to fireworks. Poe tried to open his eyes to see them - he'd always liked the orange ones the best. The arms around him tightened in warning, and the river's current grew stronger and faster, lashing out at random points around him. It was like being in the center of a hurricane meant to protect him.

A voice above him said something, and Poe was set down. He whimpered in protest as his river retreated. Figures blurred together, and their voices crescendoed. Someone was crying. Someone was yelling. Someone was pleading. Other hands descended on him, and Poe tried to shake them off. They were cold, unwanted, unwelcome. He caught glimpses of tan and white shirts, orange uniforms, and turned his head. The colors were too bright.

The river grew farther away. Poe could see it so clearly in his mind. He raced towards it on paralyzed, broken legs, reaching out with maimed and bloody hands to the figure standing in the midst of the rushing water. Desperation lent his voice strength, and he rasped one word: " _Ben_."

The current flowed back to him once more, caressing his face gently. _You're safe now._

The image of a smile crossed Poe's mind. It was like he was dreaming with his eyes open. He could see, almost too clearly, the shuttle doors slam closed - he could feel with too much clarity the shuttle take off and launch them into hyperspace. For some reason, he pictured a single knight with a flaming red broadsword against a whole army. The knight protected himself for a long time, taking down much of the army with him, but once his prince had left, he let himself go. One lucky shot, then another, then another. Eventually, the knight stopped fighting.

What did it all mean?

Poe wanted to go back and find out, to help this stranger that had somehow rescued him. He couldn't move. Voices cooed softly above him, and something heavy and familiar was laid over Poe's burned and bruised chest.

_You're safe now._

Poe closed his eyes and surrendered to a confused, dark sleep.

* * *

 

_There is darkness everywhere. Somehow, he feels safe. A light appears, flickering slowly, just out of his reach. He runs towards it, and the darkness recedes. The light reaches towards him, beckoning him closer and closer, towards the end of this long tunnel. His footsteps grow faster and lighter, as if he is running on the wind itself. The light at the end of his journey solidifies into a single piece of paper, tattered and worn. He catches the paper, turning it over to read words in a language he can't understand._

_Dear Poe,  
_ _I read your letters. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am, for everything I've done. You were right. You pulled me out of this darkness I created for myself, and you showed me how to live again. Perhaps, if we both make it, we can talk.  
_ _Love always,  
_ _Ben Solo._

_The words somehow don't make sense, even as he reads it. There must be something more. This cannot be the last words he ever remembers. He looks around frantically. There must be something more. He opens his mouth to speak, to talk, but there is nothing. Nothing save for the last letter in his hand. There must be something more._

_Then -_

_"Poe?"_

_He finds his voice, and he answers. "Ben."_

_A tall figure made of light and bathed in warmth appears before him, its hand holding the pen that wrote the words. He holds up the pen, touches the tip of it to the paper, and the letter bursts into a thousand stars. It is beautiful to watch, all those words and their meanings fading away. Where the letter and pen disappear, there is room for their hands to meet. The contact is long-awaited, and they take it tenderly. The shadows they had cast on each other now fall away, for where there is a shadow, there has to be a light. And that light is something truly beautiful._

_"Let's talk."_


End file.
